


House On Fire

by 48eyesand32teeth1sharptongue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 2019 reuploads, AU of my AU, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Demon Blood, Don't copy to another site, Episode: s14e07 Unhuman Nature, Episode: s14e08 Byzantium, M/M, Sam Has Powers, Sam is Jack's Dad, Spoilers through S14, Trans Sam Winchester, alternate S14E08, attempted revenge doesn't go as planned, semi abandoned, telepathic empathic links
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:02:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24838126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/48eyesand32teeth1sharptongue/pseuds/48eyesand32teeth1sharptongue
Summary: Sam is going to make Lucifer answer for what he's done.
Relationships: Jack Kline & Sam Winchester, Lucifer/Sam Winchester
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	1. Flashpoint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is going to make Lucifer answer for what he's done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fic title a song by LP.
> 
> Basically if Episode 7 connected to Episode 8.
> 
> Heavily inspired by UltimateFandomTrash61's "Where It All Started."
> 
> Difference from canon is that Sam is Jack's biological father in this, as usual, and Jack isn't in Heaven.  
> Jack is in the Empty or worse, it's sort of unclear, but Sam knows he isn't in Heaven.

**One Hour After Sam Tries to Make A Pyre**

"You killed our son." Sam snarls, lunging forward. The demon blood sings under his skin, a familiar restless and heady liquid weight flaring up like hellfire inside his veins. He lost count of how many he drank. He didn't care how many. He hadn't wanted to do it. But that didn't matter.

All that mattered was Jack was dead, and Sam walked out to make a pyre because if he didn't, he wouldn't be able to follow through, only he couldn't even do that right, and then Lucifer was back, Sam felt his grace light up the sky, and Sam followed the trail thrumming under his skin and throbbing inside his skull and choking his heart in his throat, because Lucifer was alive, because _Â Nick let him back in_ , and Sam wasn't going to just let this happen, wasn't going to let him walk free, not when everything was wrong and he was DEAD and... And-

Jack was dead.

He was dead.

And nothing else mattered, nothing was okay, nothing would ever be okay, and there was absolutely nothing Sam could do except _this,_ because Lucifer didn't deserve to live, nothing did, not so long as Jack was dead.

Sam can't let him stay in the Empty or wherever he is. Sam had asked Billie if she'd reaped him. Asked him where Jack had gone.

She didn't know. None of the damn reapers know, and Sam-

He can't let this be the end. Not when Jack had his whole life to live, not when he'd barely lived over a year, not after everything.

He'd trade himself, he'd done it before, he'd watched his brother and Cas and John and Mary do the same damn thing, only this time Sam would trade the whole damn world, too. Sam had already saved it once and twice and look how much it fucking mattered-

But first, Sam would trade the monster that took him away in the first place.

Lucifer doesn't even try to dodge as Sam attempts to cut him into tiny pieces, the Archangel blade hot and heavy and burning, searing like a brand where it's gripped so tight against his palm.

Sam wants to eviscerate all the grace out of Lucifer and to take it back and put it where it belongs, like that would fix anything, like it would knit Jack back together and breathe his soul back under his too pale, sunken skin-

Lucifer catches the blade in his hands and keeps it still.

But Sam has Lucifer by the throat, the monster of his nightmares having slunk comfortably back inside the blank facade a too-familiar shell, and Sam keeps him pinned to the wall of the alley. Sam hopes Nick felt every second of every slash of metal and that he feels every bruise he'd leave there inside his slimy, cowardly brain. Sam hopes that it hurts. Sam wishes he could rip the Devil and carve him and his lapdog into a thousand pieces.

Sam could suffer many things. Has suffered so many things on their whims.

But he would not let Jack suffer this. Not when he could've stopped it, when he still can-

Not when he could've saved him.

Not when they were so close only for it all to be _worthless_ -

Lucifer lets him hold him there, and instead of the smile Sam knows is hiding behind the false blue of his eyes- just like the amusement, because Lucifer holds all the cards, they both know he does, the fucker can't even stay _dead_ \- there is only a rapt seriousness, a red hunger that haunts his every moment.

But Sam doesn't give on single fuck anymore.

Because his son is dead.

And nothing was enough, nothing would _ever_ be good enough to fix this, and Sam will do anything, _anything_ , if it means Jack starts breathing again.

And Lucifer knows it.

They both know it all too well.

"Jack is dead, because of _YOU_ ," Sam hisses, grip tightening around Nick's windpipe.

Lucifer tilts his head, and waits, drawing the moment out like he's a storm gathering on the horizon, before he asks, "And?"

Sam punches him in the eye.

Lucifer's head snaps back, and Sam's knuckles shatter, but Sam tries to rip the eyeball out of his eyesocket with his nails anyway, and as Lucifer heals, his other hand suspends Lucifer higher against the wall, shoes dangling off the ground by an inch.

"Sammy-" Lucifer warns, but Sam cuts him off. This is not a fucking negotiation. This is war.

"And you're going to bring him BACK." Sam roars.

Lucifer's wings flare, endlessly bright, and there's a hand tracing his jaw, and wings hugging Sam closer.

Sam doesn't flinch.

Sam is stone, motionless save for the curl of his lips and the glint of his teeth.

Sam doesn't feel any of it.

He doesn't feel anything except the nothing pooling over his insides.

"You are going to bring him back!" Sam repeats, still shouting, tears in his eyes, and hands shaking from the strain of trying to move a mountain that doesn't want to be moved. "Or I will _make_ you."

He wants to make Lucifer bleed.

He wants to watch him burn again.

Except Sam doesn't want any of that, not really.

All he wants is his son alive and safe and breathing and okay, and he'll do anything, _anything-_

And something inside him breaks all over again.

Lucifer doesn't so much as budge. 

Lucifer pries Sam's grip off of him with an inhuman strength, slow and sure and enough to make the bones crack. There's not enough demon blood in the world to keep Sam steady in the face of the very thing that made them in the first place, True Vessel or not, and Lucifer grabs his wrists with one hand, then twists, and then it's Sam pressed up against the brick now, with too-tight fingers gripping his jaw, the usual, like they always do, with a carefully calculated ferocity, while the other hand squeezes Sam's throat without any effort.

Nothing has changed.

Nothing has ended.

The only difference between then and now is Jack is gone, and Sam-

Sam won't accept it.

Sam can't.

Lucifer's smile does peek through then, as sharp as ever, poised like it's going to tear Sam's throat out, like Sam wishes he could right back.

"Or else you'll... what?" Lucifer purrs. "Kill me? Because last I checked..." Lucifer eyes himself up and down, then gives Sam a pointed look as he drawls, "I'm still kicking."

Sam tries to bite his face.

"I am going to rip your stolen grace out of your fucking skin and then put it back where it belongs!" Sam hisses, struggling in his grip.

"Little late for that, Bunk Buddy." Lucifer _tsks_.

Sam lets out a guttural animal noise, low yet so full of aimless, broken loss Lucifer almost feels the warm rush of accomplishment.

Because Sam never broke. He came close. But not completely.

But he's certainly broken now.

( _Almost as broken as him_ , Lucifer doesn't think, but Sam reads it on his face, either way.)

"Jack... He's dead because of _you!"_ Sam keens, trying to wrench away and grab the angel blade back.

"Self-defense." Lucifer corrects.

Sam's jaw snaps open and closed and he wriggles to little avail.

"No. No, that was me. Not him. And we both know that you don't give a damn if he lives or he dies. So unless," Sam gasps as the pressure on his throat tightens, and spots dance over his vision as the darkness closes in, "you're proud to say you murdered your son, when I'm the one who tried to kill you, not him," Sam chokes, eyes narrowing as Lucifer remains unimpressed, and Sam goes for the only barb he knows might hit, "Unless you're proud to say you're worse than your father, for killing your own son-"

Lucifer's grip eases, and Sam heaves in a breath.

"Okay, Sammy. You've made your case." Lucifer answers, all flat. Then Lucifer grips him by the shoulders, and says, too gently, "So let's talk shop."

Sam knows what comes next, and somewhere, deep deep down inside Sam's heart, he promises Lucifer will suffer for this.

But not before Jack is safe, not before this nightmare is over, not even if Sam has to go and Jack gets to stay, none of it matters, nothing at all-

Lucifer voice remains soft. Like it always does, when he's getting what he wants.

"What are you willing to trade?"


	2. Love Love Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Jack make sandcastles... and then Sam copes with the immediate events of S14E08.
> 
> Fic title a song by Of Monsters and Men.
> 
> Still incomplete.

**Months Earlier**

Jack knows he's dying. He's known for weeks.

He's surprised he'd been able to hide it from Sam for so long, but having the excuse of wanting space and being frustrated by not having powers and with Sam being focused on finding Dean, he's been able to hide more than he otherwise would. There have been some close calls; Sam almost walked in on the coughing up blood, more than once, but Jack hid the evidence before Sam came to check on him.

Sam had enough to worry about without having to worry about him.

And it's easier, drawing back.Â 

Because if Jack tried to hold on tighter, he might not be able to pretend to stay calm.

And he knows if Sam knew...

It's not that Jack wants to die. He doesn't.

But this is his fault. He let Lucifer get too close and now...

He can't let Sam see him like this.

Not when he knows there's no fix, the knowledge of his own mortality humming in his bones. It's his fault he's going to die, because he was too trusting, too stupid, too _blind_ -

Jack tries to think kinder thoughts. Sam had been trying so hard to get Jack to see that it wasn't him, that he didn't know-

But he should've. He's dealt with Michael.

He should've known from the start.

Just like he knows the truth now.

When Lucifer stole his grace, Jack started to feel himself unravel.

And he's not sure there's any coming back from that.

Truthfully, he's scared. He wants to ask Sam for help, for answers, to fix things-

But the part of him that cannot afford to be a child knows better, because he knows when there's no fixing things.

Nick might be walking free, but Lucifer is gone.Â 

Lucifer is dead.

And even in death, he's taking Jack out with him.

\--

Jack had tried pretending, at first. Sam had tried to take them to the beach, in between looking for Dean.

Thought it was important to savor the win, to find support in each other, to let Jack still be a kid in the ways he can manage.

Honestly, Cas and Sam and Jack all needed the break, however brief. Sam would be running himself ragged on two hours of sleep, otherwise, and...Â 

It's supposed to be easier, pretending everything is fine.

Feeling the sand beneath his feet and the waterlogged drag of his pants as he dips his ankles in.

Seeing Sam hand out carefully cut watermelon cubes and hugging Jack, rubbing his back when he coughs and helping him sit on the comforter.

The truth comes out in small drops of blood Jack wipes off on his sleeve- drops Sam notices and then his face falls and he knows and pretending didn't matter anyway.

All it does is leave Jack feeling dizzy, because deep in his eyes he can see Sam knows how fragile he is now, how close to falling over, and Castiel looks like he's trying to hold on to two people who've started to disappear before his eyes.

There's something different in Sam's eyes. Something wary and desperate and frantic like an animal and Jack hasn't seen that look in his Dad before, except once, when Lucifer asked them to kill the other and Sam's head had bowed, like he'd been used to some impossible, unwinnable choice.

Jack hadn't known Sam wouldn't kill him at the time- hell, he probably deserved it- but he knows better, now.

Knows Sam would rather it was him than Jack.

But it doesn't change the fact that Sam deserves to live more than him.


	3. One Night In The Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is still very incomplete and has way too much canon

"Hey, hey, hey, it's all right. Take it easy. Take it easy. It's all right. It's all right." Sam tries for some kind of reassurance, but it's empty, but he has to put on a brave face and pretend it's not. Has to let Jack see some kind of good before this destroys him.

He can't fail him again, not when he already was falling apart at the seams too much to even be there for him. There were too many failed options, too many solutions that weren't solutions, and instead of making Jack comfortable and giving him something to hold on to all he could try was to search for more things... And it hadn't helped.

"Please don't be sad." Jack rasps, and there's that too-calm veneer over everything, the bravery he's trying to make peace with. "Maybe... Maybe this is how things are supposed to be." Jack's voice breaks just a little, even if he thinks this is all he can do. He can't stomach seeing Sam like this, knowing that he's even failed to make this easier for all of them. It shouldn't be this hard. It shouldn't be this scary. And maybe it's selfish, but Jack doesn't want to see his Dad or his other Dad or uncle Dean in pain. He doesn't want that to be the last thing he sees. He wants to remember them happy, wishes he could pretend he gave them more good than bad to deal with.

"Don't give me that "meant to be" crap. This isn't part of some damn plan." Dean's too angry, lashing out like always, and Sam can't handle it, hunches closer to Jack, drowning out the rage and everything but the need to be there for him.

"Dean!" Cas warns, pulling him aside and out of the room. None of them are dealing, but the last thing he's willing to let happen is to have Sam have to deal with Dean on top of the weight of Jack dying right in front of him.

Jack coughs violently, clutching at the mask Sam helps him hold.

"Can you tell him... It's okay?" Jack rasps.

"Tell him yourself. He'll be back in a minute." Sam tries to stay positive. Tries to pretend he can't see exactly what is coming.

"Sam... What happens next for someone like me?" Jack whispers. Scared with wide eyes.

"I don't know." Sam rasps. He wishes he could give him certainty, could keep the tears out of his eyes, could tell him there's rest and peace and no fear... But he doesn't know. And he can't give false promises.

"Then it's gonna be an adventure." Jack says, with a smile that's too big for the pain he's in, quoting 'Peter Pan' at Sam with the same persistent, gentle assurance a child shouldn't use on their parent, and that's more just a reminder of how young he is, too. They'd barely had any time together. Barely had any time for Jack to grow up.

Jack dies peacefully. One stilted breath while he dozes, and then nothing.

Sam's breath catches in his throat. "Jack?" He whispers, still holding his hand. Jack is motionless. Sam has seen so many people die. He knows how to pinpoint the exact moment. But everything feels far away, all of sudden. Hazy. And Sam feels only hollow, only the choking grief come to claim him, just crumbles in on himself and for a vague moment, in a moment he'd never ever expect to want, hopes this isn't real. Hopes it's all some elaborate torture and trick that he never got out, because otherwise the truth is the worst it could ever be.

Sam won't accept this. He can't. He'll rip the Veil open and drag Jack back into life if it's the last thing he's ever lucky enough to live for.

\--

When Dean and Cas re-enter the room, Sam barely notices.

"He's gone." Sam says.

Jack had died with his eyes closed, but not before looking at Sam with all the love in his eyes, all the trust, same as he did the day he was born.

It's only been a year.

One year, and the son Sam loves more than anything he's ever loved before-

Gone.

Lucifer had killed him slowly, drawn it out, made Jack make an impossible choice and let him turn the blade on himself-

Taking everything away, like always.

But Sam feels nothing, feels dead himself.

He doesn't have any answers any more. No way to move on, to process this-

Jack is dead, and there is nothing he can do except frantically try to bring him back, to invade Heaven or break open Hell or...

But Sam doesn't even know where he's gone.

Where does a nephil go when all it's grace has been drained and every other part of himself has wasted away from the inside out?

What is left of Jack's soul, to unite its components back together?

\--

"Maybe we should start thinking about next steps." Cas starts up, hesitant and stilted.

"Wake and a bonfire, Hunter style. It's what Jack would've wanted." Dean suggests, too gruff, pretending like he hasn't cried or that his face isn't as red or his throat as raw as the rest of them.

Sam leaves.

He cannot accept this.

He cannot, he...

Jack...

If he doesn't do this now...

He's going to do something he'll regret.

\--

Sam is crumpled by the door of the Impala. Listless. Glassy eyes full of tears. Strings cut and shorn to pieces.

"Tell me you didn't make a deal!" Dean yells, frantic, angry enough to break something, knowing all too well that look on Sam's face from his own after looking in the mirror.

"A deal? What? No. I was trying to build a pyre." Sam chokes, blanket denial all the more present because he'd make a deal if it would do anything. "I couldn't..." Sam loses his voice, grasps for nothing, stammers, "I...I couldn't even do that for him." And then the emptiness breaks over him, an endless wave, and he whispers, "I should've done more."

"Sam..." Dean's words fail. Sam doesn't even give him time to get the words out.

"I should have tried harder. You know, I mean, everything we got, the spells, the lore..." Sam's voice breaks, small and furious with an empty vehemence that seems like he's lost all faith. "What good is any of it if we couldn't even save him?"

"At least you were there for him." Dean answers. Too gentle.

Sam doesn't have many more words to say.

Cas tries to help Sam up.

"This doesn't feel right." Cas adds. "It's just not how I thought Jack's story would end."

"Yeah. None of us did." Dean continues.

"The certainty of death, even for angels, it's always felt natural, but this doesn't. Jack being taken before his time. I mean, taken before me." Castiel tries to put into words the loss of a child, the loss of purpose he'd felt, the failure to protect.

Sam's insides still feel rotten, and he hangs his head, listless, barely listening to either of them.

He knows he should, but he can't, it's too close, they were all so unprepared for any of this...

"So, what do we do?" He finally rasps. Looking to his brother for the faith that finally failed him.

"Say goodbye... tomorrow." Dean says, too sure, too easily steering Sam to the car as he pretends he's holding it together better than either of them. "Tonight, we get loaded."

\--

When Sam turns over his empty glass of whiskey and leaves early, he heads to his room.

Hides, in the dark, trying to think of what comes next.

Of any way to fix this.

It's barely been an hour since he'd left the trees and the axe that failed him.

And as the night wears on, suddenly there is something sharp and electric speeding up Sam's spine, every bit of latent grace (useless, integrated with the cracks of Sam's own broken soul, unable to be extracted or used to save Jack or spare him from anything-) that Lucifer had left as a memento roaring to life, and Sam feels a tug on his soul, and all at once something cold and bright and endless roars to life, familiar, and freezing, and bound into his bones, stretching out beyond the Bunker...

 **No**.

 _Oh, yes._ An old whisper breathes, too terrible to acknowledge.

But there is an edge of warmth to the grace line as it twangs with Jack's own grace signature, and Sam's mouth fills with blood as he bites down.

Jack is gone.

But Lucifer is back.

Nick found a way to let him back in-

Nick had Jack's grace this whole time, and Sam didn't know until it was too late.

And all at once, the pangs of grief, of loss, of an endless fall with no reprieve, because Jack was gone and Sam had failed him-

It all sets aflame and crumbles and turns on the one thing Sam can blame beyond himself, the yawning empty pit inside Sam replaced with an old, yet newer, sharper hatred and sense of mission.

Because that was Jack's stolen grace lighting up miles away where Lucifer touched down.

And Lucifer did this.

Lucifer killed him.

And Lucifer died yet was walking the damn earth.

Sam will not let this be a world where he lives, and Jack is gone. No matter the price.

And he will make Lucifer pay for killing Jack, no matter what it costs Sam himself.

But first he has to bring Jack back.

He's certainly brought Sam back before. He's an Archangel.

Sam knows his tells, his weaknesses, every weapon and type of torture he'll use to try to bring Sam down, to punish him for everything that's happened-

But Sam doesn't care.

All that matters is that Jack died, and that was not going to stand.

Once he gets back, well, then they'll find a way to fix things and make Lucifer permanently gone forever, as a family, with no loose ends.


End file.
